Winners And Survivors - Part Two, Teyla Emmagen, PG

[tielan]

Title: Winners And Survivors - Part Two
Author: tielan
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Prompt: #104. Winning may not be everything, but losing has little to recommend it. --Diane Feinstein.
Summary: She was questioning her sanity in ever agreeing to this. She had never seen war as a game.
Notes: Since this is over 10,000 words, I'm posting it in two parts. I've wanted to write this concept for a while - a kind of 'reverse situation' to what usually occurs in the show. Many, many thanks to my betas, pandora_576 and dzurlady, and many thanks to gehayi for organising this round of the femgenficathon!

Winners And Survivors - Part One

Winners And Survivors
Part Two

"If it wouldn't get me court-martialled, I'd kill Colonel Sheppard for showing you Spiderman."

Teyla managed a smile in spite of the uncomfortable awareness that there was a long way between her and the ground. She did not mind heights when there was little chance she might fall.

'Standing' against one of the outside walls of the city, waiting for one of the two marines who had offered to accompany her on this rescue, it was more difficult to believe that the harness might not give way, that the ropes might not part, that the knots might not come undone, leaving her to plummet to her death.

Teyla's mind knew it was not so - she had done this before, although never above such a height, but her body was tense, and her efforts to loosen the tightness of her grip on the rope were unsuccessful. What her mind recognised, her body would not.

"I believe it was Mission Impossible," she told Lieutenant Cadman, "And Tarzan, Legend of Greystoke."

"Even worse," Laura retorted. "Okay. Kilmer says he can do a temporary retreat to lure them out, then renew attacks when you're in position. I think he's pissed off that you worked this out, actually; he sounds like someone made him eat a lemon whole and didn't give him a lollipop afterwards. You're sure you want to do this?"

The question had been frequently asked in the last two hours since Teyla had formulated her plans.

"I believe it is best that I deal with Ronon," Teyla said after a moment's pause. "His challenge was to me."

"You don't have to out-testosterone the boys, you know," said Laura. "The marines could get the Colonel out."

Teyla was not sure she could explain it to Laura. "I am the leader," she said. "It is... I will not send my people to do what I will not - unless it is something I cannot do."

There was more to it than that, of course.

Ronon had challenged her - and Teyla was not so prideless as to not feel both admiration and exasperation with her team-mate. It was not so obvious as Colonel Sheppard's near-constant jockeying with Ronon, the competition that Rodney termed 'reaching for the tape measure' - no, Teyla felt no need to compare herself that way. But she and Ronon were the only two natives of Pegasus in the city; in setting them up as the leaders of their respective teams, John had - intentionally or otherwise - put them in comparison as never before.

John would say that there was nothing wrong with a little competition. And Teyla agreed - but was not going to lie down without a fight.

She did wonder if it was foolishness to be attempting this, as others had already said, some with blunt assurance, some with more subtle queries. In the end, she had come up with the plan, and she would carry it out herself.

"Well, I tried," the other woman sounded resigned. "But if you get yourself killed doing this, they're going to kill me. Are you sure you don't want to let Dr. Weir know?"

Misgivings assailed her once again. She would feel better letting Dr. Weir know what was happening - but to do so might alert Ronon to her actions, and she could not afford that. "You will simply have to prevail upon Carson to patch you up," Teyla told the other woman, her tone light.

"Why does everyone say that?" Laura complained, but with good humour. "I'll have your diversion in place when you give the signal. That's something else they're going to kill me for, you know."

"You did suggest it," Teyla pointed out.

"Which is why you should never have agreed to it."

Teyla decided she would never understand the constant put-downs in which the Lanteans engaged. There was modesty, and then there was foolishness. "As the leader, I would have to make some decision about our course of action," then, because she was feeling mordant and determined not to show it, she added, "If I should die from this course of action, then I will take full responsibility."

"Comforting."

Beside her, the marine neatly lowered himself into place, and Teyla took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for what was to come. "Beginning our descent."

"Okay. Cadman, out."

Sergeant King nodded at her, then began his descent, his toes almost dancing on the solid walls of the city.

Teyla breathed out and pushed off.

During one of her first attempts at this, she had forgotten to hold her rope firmly and plummeted eight yards before her fingers regained a grip on the cord and she halted her plunge. Once the marines were assured that she was uninjured - but for the burn across her palm - there was laughter and joking, but the lesson had been salutary. It had even been beneficial for her social status; the loss of dignity had made the marines a little less wary around her - at least when Sergeant Bates was not present.

The wind around the city edged beneath her jacket and through her trousers and her fingers rapidly began to lose feeling as she let the cord slide slowly around the metal loop in her harness and moved down the wall. She was neither as fast, nor as sure as either of the marines, but she could do this.

That did not mean she liked it.

With the solid base of the city beneath her feet again, Teyla exhaled softly. Sergeant King caught her eye and smirked before he tapped out a code on his microphone, signalling to Laura that they'd reached the balcony.

The return code was sent, and while they waited for Laura to put the next part of the plan into action, they divested themselves of the harness, carefully muffling the noises of the few metal parts. Corporal Trujo stood watch by the door, listening for the sound of sentries along the corridor. When he put up one hand in warning signal, Teyla and the Sergeant froze.

Footsteps were audible along the corridor, accompanied by voices. Teyla began to reach for the intar holstered under her arm, then paused with the harness still in her hand. Her careful breathing - and that of the Sergeant and the Corporal - sounded harsh and loud, even though it would have been barely audible over the wind. They had planned this mission as carefully as possible, but there was no way to be sure of what measures Ronon had taken to protect his prize.

Then, distantly, there was the sound of doors opening and closing, and shouts and cries of alarm from not only the corridor beyond but all over the city. Footsteps pounded back and forth, and voices sounded across communications channels asking what was happening.

Standing with her shoulder pressed up against the balcony wall, Teyla's eyes narrowed as she heard the distinctive rumble of Ronon's voice, not more than several rooms away. At the door, Corporal Trujo glanced at her and grinned. She arched a brow at him for a few moments, warning him against ebullience, before it relaxed into a smile, safe in the knowledge that she'd been right.

It was impossible to hear exactly what was being said, but she suspected that it was a demand from Elizabeth regarding what was happening to doors all through the city. Every inside door in the entire city would act up for the next couple of minutes, randomly opening and closing at the whim and command of Dr. Bedner.

And it would continue to do so until Teyla and the two marines were in the nearby storage room.

She was not worried about Elizabeth's enquiries. For just this purpose, they had recorded a number of possible answers to any question the city's leader might ask and stored them on Laura's computer. If the questions could not be satisfactorily answered, then the headsets would experience a sudden technical difficulty.

Timing was the key. That, and a small amount of good fortune.

Carefully, Teyla lowered the remainder of the harness to the ground and stepped out of the straps. Any sentries set to watch the corridor by Ronon were long since gone, but it would not hurt to be careful and quiet. Beyond her, Sergeant King was doing the same.

A set of taps came through her headset - signal to move out.

They moved swiftly through the hallway, trusting that Laura and Dr. Metcalfe had judged the moment right, that no unexpected and unwelcome surprises awaited them. And when Sergeant King tapped out the 'all clear' signal, the door of the storeroom slid closed behind them, smooth as water over her skin.

Beyond the room, other doors opened and closed, just as randomly as they had apparently begun. Now, however, they would slow down, and one by one, the doors would stop. They were no longer needed.

And here began the difficult part of the rescue.

Laura had stared, as had the marines in the room. Dr. Metcalfe had started to ask if she was crazy, then broke off mid-sentence with glowing embarrassment. Dr. Bedner had given one brief squawk of laughter. "You know, that's crazy enough that it just might work!"

Teyla checked that her vest pockets were secure, that her weapon was firmly strapped in and her headset firmly attached. It would be embarrassing if she were to get so close to her goal, only to be caught at the betraying clatter of something she was carrying.

This storeroom, like many others in the city, was filled with crates. They piled nearly to the ceiling. It was perfect.

With a quick glance at the marines - Corporal Trujo grinned and winked, heating her cheeks a little - Teyla began climbing up the boxes, checking the stability of each set as she gained height, until she was nearly at the ceiling.

Dr. Metcalfe had noted it was reassuring to know that the Ancients were a lot like their descendants in some respects. "It's impractical to have the ceiling of one level perfectly flush with the floor of the next. Although Ancient technology tend to use node transmissions rather than wires, there are still air ducts, and the light fittings need to go somewhere. And then there's the matter of maintenance..."

The ceiling section she pushed against was light and moveable - an access hatch to the ceiling space. Although the panel was somewhat awkward to shift, Teyla moved slowly and carefully to get it out of the way. They had checked this over at the western wing first - Dr. Metcalfe's 'I-25' - and since this set of rooms, and the other were structurally very similar...

Teyla took a deep breath, then winced at the odd melange of scents that poured out of the enclosed space. It would not be pleasant, but she was in no danger of suffocating.

Careful pressure on a button at her shoulder switched on a tiny flashlight that was to be her only source of light in the ceiling cavity. Then, with a brief smile for the two marines who waited below, Teyla eased herself into the darkness.

Within a few seconds, her fingers were covered in dust, dirt, and small particles of fluff. Whatever wonders of technology the Ancestors had developed, it seemed that they, too, had been subject to the collection of dust in spare spaces.

Teyla ignored it and moved carefully through the ceiling cavity.

"The ceiling's mostly solid," Dr Metcalfe had informed her. "But there are maintenance panels all over the place - most of them disguised quite cleverly." The scientist had shown her the placement of the panel for the room in which Ronon was allegedly keeping Colonel Sheppard and Teyla observed and nodded, trying to imagine the way her team-mate would be most likely to arrange the room. "Ultimately, nothing is going to beat a good look at the room. But you're probably not going to get that before Dex starts shooting at you... Are you sure you want to be doing this?"

So far, 'want' had not been a primary reason for any of Teyla's actions this day.

Of more concern to her than the stability of the ceiling was any possible noise she might make. Scraping noises would alert Ronon to the fact that Teyla was on his trail, and she intended to take him by surprise.

As she drew closer to the panel she wanted, easing a careful pathway through the dust and fittings of the ceiling, Teyla began to hear voices - familiar ones.

"...Baker's coming along well."

Ronon snorted. "He needs to stop anticipating getting hurt."

"The way you smack him around, he expects it."

"Do you tense when you see a blow coming?"

"Sometimes." John sounded casual, unlike a prisoner. Then again, Teyla reflected as her fingers moved through dust and fluff, unlike the last time one man had been prisoner to the other, Ronon was now familiar to John, and this was only a game.

"You didn't when I shot you."

"You had the weapon on me," came the reply. "I wasn't going to dodge the shot from that distance."

"I wouldn't have missed from any distance," Ronon retorted.

Teyla could hear the grin in his voice and smiled in spite of her position in the dark as John replied, "Don't sound so smug about it." There were times when she thought her team-mates - Colonel Sheppard, Rodney, and Ronon - were nothing more than little boys showing off.

By the glow of the tiny flashlight, she identified the panel she wanted, and carefully eased herself through the dust and fittings, moving towards it at a slow pace and ignoring the gentle ache of her muscles as she went. Occasionally, her earpiece would transmit two taps, and each time, she tapped it twice in response - all clear, still moving.

The conversation in the room below continued, with neither man giving any verbal sign that they were aware of her progress above them.

When she reached the position of the moveable panel, her body was delicately tense, aware that the final moments of her coup were coming. In the dim light, Teyla studied the panel she was to move, noting the placement and the dust. A few gentle swipes dislodged some of the debris and she carefully blew it away from the edges. It would do her no good to open the panel only to be betrayed by falling dust.

Carefully, she eased her fingertips beneath the material and raised it a crack, putting pressure on her elbows to gain the leverage needed to raise it up.

A sliver of light, colour, shape, and movement showed her the room below.

Both men were seated on chairs in the room - the comfortable, lounging type that Dr. Heightmeyer preferred for her sessions. From the way Colonel Sheppard shifted, it seemed Ronon had put some form of restraint on him - not uncomfortable but limiting.

She would deal with that when the time came.

In the meantime, she let the panel slip back into place and tapped out a code across her headset. A moment's pause, then the pattern tapped back. Laura had received her message.

Once again, Teyla eased the panel up, letting the fingers of her left hand take the strain of holding up the panel as her right hand stole to her weapon.

Four measured taps came across her headset. A pause. Then three taps. Pause. Two. Pause. One.

The explosion didn't sound loud in the ceiling space, but it was loud enough for both men to leap to their feet - John nearly fell over since his ankle was 'chained' to the leg of the chair on which he sat with wirelike restraints. He righted himself after a moment, and waved the other man on. "Report."

With only a glance back, Ronon strode to the window.

Both men were facing away. Teyla flipped up the cover with a twist of the wrist that made her wince as she pushed the panel aside. It wasn't noiseless, but it was covered by the secondary explosion Laura had set up - more noise than damage, more light than power.

She began to move.

Then her headset blared with Rodney's annoyed tones. "Cadman, what the hell is going on?"

No more than a faint tinny sound, it was still enough to alert the men below that they were no longer alone. Ronon was already turning, reaching for his stunner.

Teyla's weapon was already in her hand.

She aimed and fired, once, twice, three times. She did not miss.

Ronon's collapse was slow and inevitable, like watching a distant rockfall drag the cliff with it. He collapsed, temporarily winded.

She fired two more shots into him. He was both too canny and too resilient to remain down. Even with the extra shots, Teyla knew he would not remain so for long.

Holstering her weapon, she slipped her legs over the edge of the hole and paused.

Her original plan had included her swinging perhaps five yards to the floor - the distance between ceiling and floor in the other wing. The layout of the room was the same; the dimensions were not. Reality involved a drop that was closer to seven or eight.

"Teyla?" She barely heard John's startled query; her attention was focused on Ronon. A minute at most, and he would be awake again, and more than capable of fighting her.

She had no choice.

Teyla reached for the opposite edge of the opening and swung down, her fingers protesting as they tensed for grip the material of the ceiling structure. Her fall had less control that it should and she landed hard, her ankles and knees protesting the distance, but otherwise uninjured.

Vaguely, she was aware of more intar fire, the sound was diminished but still distinguishable through the wall. The two marines had apparently broken from their confinement in the storeroom upon the explosion.

Two strides past John, and her hand dipped into her pocket, seeking the items Dr. Bedner had acquired. She had not asked to what use the restraints were put, although all the Lanteans had choked upon their procurement. It was sufficient that they were of use.

She kicked Ronon's gun away before he could reach for it again. The first cuff snapped closed about his wrist and locked with a click. With a yank, she dragged his limp wrist into the second one and snapped it closed.

"Should I even ask what you're doing with a pair of propylene-lined cuffs that fit Ronon's size?" Colonel Sheppard asked from behind her. Teyla held up the second pair of cuffs and listened to him choke. "Okay, so I shouldn't."

"You should not." The ankle-cuffs were larger and more difficult to fasten, but the second cuff was in place and Ronon still had not woken. Perhaps the intar fire was more damaging than she had thought? Or maybe his physiology was not accustomed to it?

He was still breathing, but he was not moving, and Teyla, while concerned, was distrustful of his stillness. She kept a wary eye on him as she paged Lieutenant Cadman.

"Laura?"

"Teyla? You're through?"

Teyla glanced around, then reached for her weapon just as the doors slid open and Sergeant King and Corporal Trujo came in.

"All clear, ma'am."

"Thank you," she told them before she turned back to Laura. "Ronon is disabled," she said, "send reinforcements. And Colonel Sheppard--"

"Colonel Sheppard appreciates the rescue, but wants out of these restraints sometime this century," John said, leaning in to project his voice through Teyla's headset.

Teyla gave him a look, and he widened his eyes, innocent as a child caught before a cooling tray that was missing sweet buns. Then lifted his wrists, displaying the plastic restraints Ronon had turned into a chain with which to limit John's freedom.

"Teyla?" A new voice came through her headset.

"Dr. Weir."

"I trust there's going to be an explanation for all this later?"

Teyla hesitated. "Yes."

"Including the explosive device that Rodney tells me detonated off the side of one of the towers?" Elizabeth's tone of voice was dry.

"You detonated an explosive device?" John exclaimed.

"Lieutenant Cadman said it was a small one," Teyla said at the same time as Laura protested, "It was only small!"

John gave her a severe, narrow-eyed look of the kind he more usually reserved for Ronon or Rodney. It was Teyla's turn to look innocent.

"I'll expect a full explanation in the debrief," Elizabeth said, her inflections both amused and warning.

"Yes, Dr. Weir." That was one meeting with Elizabeth for which Teyla was not eager.

"Gngggh!" Ronon rolled over with a grunt that turned into a stream of pithy Satedan invective. Teyla caught a few turns of phrase and couldn't quite help her smile. It seemed she had annoyed him quite significantly.

It seemed that John caught a few turns of phrase as well, because he eyed Teyla. "Did Ronon just say what I thought he said?"

"If you think he cast insults upon my ancestry, then, I believe he did," Teyla replied, smiling, for all that the insults were dire under serious circumstances.

Ronon paused in his invective, and rolled over, managing to sit up on his haunches. "I guess that means you're not going to let me out of these?"

"Not until after moonrise," she replied, knowing that he knew he was a prisoner and would remain that way until the game finished. In the end, Ronon knew when he was beaten - or when to bide his time. He sat back, philosophical in the face of this defeat.

Who knew? He might still win the 'wargame' if his team managed to retain their flag and computer.

But they both knew who had truly 'won' this round. Captain Kilmer would say it had been an unnecessary distraction, perhaps, but now that it was over, Teyla could say she had found it satisfying - both in execution and outcome.

Another quotation came to mind - one that had come to Teyla from Earth: Winning is not everything, but losing has little to recommend it.

She left Corporal Trujo to watch over Ronon, then cut John's restraints from wrist and ankle. John rubbed at his wrists, easing the slight welts from the plastic strips. "You know, he caught me by surprise."

This was familiar ground - exasperating, but familiar. Teyla hid her smile. "I know."

"I could have taken him."

"You could."

John regarded her suspiciously. "Are you humouring me?"

Teyla hesitated a moment, then said, quite deliberately, "I believe the answer to that is 'Yes.'" Her mouth twitched at his mock-scowl. "If you will excuse me, Colonel, it is not yet moonrise and there is still work to be done."

The attempt to locate Ronon's flag and laptop was ongoing, and she was leader of her team and should be involved. Teyla began to turn away, keying in the code for her own headset so she could speak with Laura and learn of Captain Kilmer's progress.

"Teyla?"

"John?"

"Uhh...Thanks. For the rescue, I mean."

Teyla glanced at Ronon, who was watching them with a smirk. John's gaze followed hers and Ronon's smirk deepened. "It was nothing," she said, turning to John and ignoring the other man.

As he turned, his face twitched with a peculiar expression - the one that appeared when he was taking something seriously and she was making light of it. "So...just part of the exercise."

"Yes."

"Well...thanks."

Ah, John. Mischief prompted her - that and his evident disappointment in her answer. Teyla patted his arm. "It was no trouble," she told him. "Me, Teyla; you, John."

Laura's snicker chuckled through the headset. Ronon let out an unrestrained guffaw. John gave her an exasperated look.

"Just don't do the yell," he said.

Teyla smiled and returned to organising her team.

- fin -

Comments

[trishkit.livejournal.com]

Fantastic insoght into Teyla. I always knew she was way cooler than as seen on tv.

Thank you!!

[tielan]

TPTB haven't worked out what to do with her yet. They're not fast on the uptake when it comes to non-military, non-scientist people; hopefully, they'll improve.

Thank you for your praise!